


Earthquake

by elaiel



Series: Unanticipated data [1]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Earthquakes, Gen, Natural Disasters, Peril, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaiel/pseuds/elaiel
Summary: Charlie and Ian's investigation of a cold case is interrupted.





	1. Ian and Charlie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dance_the_code](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_the_code/gifts).



> I'd like to dedicate this one to dance_the_code to say thanks for writing her Conference Wives series which I adore.

When Ian pulled up, Professor Eppes and Granger were talking by their car and Betancourt was walking away towards a small mini-mart. He nodded to them as he walked over. Granger nodded in return.

“Edgerton.”

“Granger.”

“I need to catch up with Nikki, but Charlie will bring you up to speed, he’s why you’re here.” He tilted his head towards the mathematician.

Charlie looked up from where he was examining some papers spread out on the hood of the car.

“It’s a cold case.” He said, staring at the buildings along the sides of the street.

Ian followed his gaze. “So why are you and I involved, Professor?”

Charlie looked back at him.

“Because Mr Morris, that’s the victim, his wife was just killed in a home invasion. The house was torn to pieces and her eight year old daughter seems to have been abducted.”

“The child abduction making it a federal case.” Ian nodded. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Charlie gestured at the cross he had chalked on the sidewalk. “Mr Morris was shot with a rifle, from a distance, for no apparent reason.”

“You got crime scene photos?”

He handed Ian a photograph. The body of a man was sprawled out near the driver’s door of a silver sedan. There wasn’t much of a head left and blood had smudged out widely in a street running with rain. Ian moved it around, flicking his eyes between photo and street, trying to work out the specific angle and location it was taken from.

“Mr Morris was opening the door of his car when he was shot. If the body wasn’t moved…” Charlie mused, going back to the papers.

Edgerton picked up the case file briefing from the hood and flicked through.

“According to the file it wasn’t. Clear head shot, no-one even tried to revive him because half his brain was missing, and apparently two passersby prevented anyone from touching the body till the police arrived. Huh, veterans.” He concluded.

Charlie scanned an annotated diagram of the crime scene he had spread out then looked back up at Ian.

“Then the shooter must have been in that direction.” He gestured up the street.

The street opened out into parking lots and derelict lots in the direction indicated.

“Not a lot in that general direction.” Ian pulled his scope from his pocket and squinted through it at the buildings further off.

“The bullet entered Mr Morris skull at quite a shallow angle, passed through and lodged in the car door near the hinge.” Charlie said to the back of Ian’s head. “LAPD assumed that the shooter was in one of the second floor windows further up the street but drew a complete blank on any evidence.”

Ian snorted.

“But my calculations of the bullet velocity and trajectory are suggesting that’s completely wrong.”

Ian turned back to him. “Which is why Don sent me out to meet you here.”

Charlie nodded. “I didn’t even know you were in LA.” He offered.

“Just finished up a case in Idaho.” Ian replied. “Don said you could use a hand so I hopped on a flight to see you.”

Charlie paused. “To see me?”

“Of course Professor,” Ian grinned at him. “I’d never turn down an opportunity to watch you do your voodoo.”

Charlie smiled back, looking awkward but pleased and turned back to the papers. “Well,” he said, “I’m hoping between my math and your expertise we can identify the location the killer shot from.”

Ian chuckled, surprising himself at his pleasure at having caused the slight blush on Charlie's face. “So where does your math suggest we should look?”

Charlie consulted his notes for a few minutes, annotating them even further. Ian surveyed the scene in general, comparing it again with the crime scene photographs.

“I’m right.” Charlie said finally. “I know I’m right. LAPD based their trajectory, the shooter in an upstairs window up the street, on the fact that witnesses said Mr Morris was opening the car door. The bullet went into the car door at an angle. The blood spatter evidence was heavily compromised by the heavy rain and wasn’t enough to prove the angle of the door. I think Mr Morris already had the car door open and the bullet came from those buildings over there.” He gestured in the same direction as previously at a small grouping of taller commercial buildings that stood a way off behind a large vacant lot. “The shallow trajectory was due to the distance, not a lower floor closer to.”

Ian looked at the buildings again through his scope. Behind him he could hear Charlie shuffling papers.

“Without more data, which I don’t have this long after the crime, one of those buildings is as close as I can get it at the moment.” Charlie said seriously.

Ian stuffed the crime scene photographs and papers back in the file.

“That’s quite a distance for an inexperienced shooter.” He mused, tossing his car keys at a startled Charlie. “You can drive, I need to review the ballistics report on the bullet.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked, looking down at the keys and back up at Ian with a slightly  worried expression.

Ian gave him a flat look.

They checked in with Granger and Betancourt, then made the short drive to the site. The buildings were a small group of three five-storey office buildings probably dating from the 1960’s. They were also theoretically vacant, but the layers of accumulated graffiti spoke to several years of unofficial usage. Older and very battered and some more recent replacement signs attached to battered security shutters marked the structures as “dangerous” and “condemned”.

Charlie squinted up at the buildings dubiously.

“Are these safe?” He asked Ian.

Ian looked down at Charlie’s feet, he was wearing a pair of lace up leather shoes rather than his sneakers. Ian shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

He pulled his gloves from his pocket and put them on, wiggling his fingers into the black leather, before starting to pull carefully at the security shutters on the windows of the building closest to the crime. Several windows along, one flapped up like a dog door. Ian shone his flashlight in. The small beam showed a vacant room with beer cans and other general detritus strewn across the floor, but the area directly below the window was clear. He turned back to Charlie and gestured him in, handing him the flashlight. Charlie balked for a moment before taking the flashlight and stepping in. Ian swung his rifle case off his back and handed it through the shutter before stepping through himself.

The shutter dropped down behind him with a clang. Almost immediately footsteps and movement could be heard. Charlie goggled for a moment, the rifle case swinging in his hand, as Ian pulled out his sidearm and stepped in front of Charlie.

“FBI!” Ian’s shout was pitched to carry through the building. “We’re checking the building, not here for you. I suggest you leave!” He paused. “Now!”

They waited for a few tense moments, until the sounds of people making a rapid exit tailed off.

“Okay,” Ian turned back to Charlie briefly, “follow me and watch your step, there’s going to be broken glass and probably needles.”

Charlie pressed his lips together, but followed behind as Ian pulled out his spare flashlight and, leading with the handgun and flashlight together, moved through the building.

The building was mostly empty. Some former offices were semi-furnished with moldering carpet, ancient desks and collapsing cubicle walls. Most of the rooms contained the detritus of drug use, used syringes, tin foil and tiny plastic bags and food wrap littering the floor. As he had expected there was a lot of human waste as well and the smell was grim.

Charlie was feeling extremely uncomfortable in the derelict office block. They checked all of the rooms on the side facing the crime scene. Edgerton kept up a running commentary on the building in a normal voice, which Charlie realised was deliberate only when some unknown person made a swift but noisy escape down the stairwell as soon as their backs were turned.

The detritus and smell improved the higher they ascended and after the third floor there were no shutters and they were able to turn off the flashlights. Charlie pocketed the flashlight as they walked into an open plan office on the fourth floor. It was almost clear of trash and was clearly lit in the mid afternoon sunshine. The windows were smashed in places, but intact enough to give plenty of shelter. Over by the windows looking in the direction of the crime scene, three desks had been pulled together to form a makeshift platform about nine inches below the level of the window frame.

“And what do we have here?” Ian put his gun away and moved towards the windows.

Charlie didn’t bother replying to the rhetorical question, but handed Ian his rifle case when he held out his hand. He took the opportunity to take out his notebook and quickly estimate the trajectory in relation to this location.

“Do you have a compass?” He asked Ian. He checked the compass provided in relation to the crime scene. “The math agrees with this as a possible location. There is enough of a margin of error it could be one floor up.”

Ian was leaning over the edge of a dirty desk and looking at the window where it had been smashed out close to the frame.

“No.” Ian said shortly. “We’ve got our scene.” He pointed at the window ledge. “See here?”

Charlie stepped forward and looked where Ian indicated. There was the faintest faded scorch mark in the paintwork.

“Muzzle flash.” Charlie said.

Ian gave him an approving smile and Charlie fought to stop the pleasure at his approval showing on his face.

“Photos.” Charlie said, pulling out his phone.

“Crime scene tech will do that.” Ian told him. “With a better camera than that has.”

“But then I’ll have to wait for the photographs.” Charlie countered. “I need a size comparison,” he said as he stared at the muzzle flash burned lightly into the windowsill.

He looked back up at Ian. Ian shrugged, apparently humoring him, but leaned forward and laid a nitrile glove out flat next to the scorch mark then, shooting Charlie a look of amusement, laid a nickel on top of it.

“Traditional.” He said with a grin.

Charlie smiled back at him and took a couple of photos of the scorch mark. Then, carefully lining up for height and direction, a few photos of the view towards the crime scene.

The sound of a loud boom startled him from his photography. As he turned back to Ian his foot slipped on some debris, or he thought it did. He caught himself and looked up at Ian who was frowning.

“Earthquake.” Ian said as the shuddering escalated and Charlie finally recognised it for what it was. “Let’s get out of here.” Ian added, grabbing his bag.

Charlie nodded his agreement. He could hear the tinkling of broken glass dislodged from windows falling to the sidewalk.

Suddenly, it felt like the ground was being kicked out from under his feet. The floor felt like the deck of a ship and the air around him was filled with noise and falling debris. Small bits of ceiling were raining down on his face and Charlie fell forward, falling down, catching himself hard on his hands and knees. He collapsed forwards, covering his head with his arms, peering out from underneath them to see Ian.

Ian was still standing, managing to keep his balance as the building shook and rolled beneath him. He gestured at the desks closest to them and took a step towards them.

Charlie didn’t even see the ceiling moving against all the other motion and noise. One moment Ian was taking a second step towards the desks and then he was on the floor, pinned under debris.  Charlie scrabbled across the bucking floor towards him. Ian was face down, pinned under part of the ceiling, but he was looking at Charlie, so he was conscious at least. Charlie crouched over Ian, arms still over his own head, shielding them both from further debris.

The ground stopped moving. Charlie paused then moved back so he could look at Ian.

“I need to phone 911.” He said.

There was a deep groan of building related distress from beneath them. Dust sifted down from overhead. Charlie looked up. Above them he could see into the floor above.

“You need to get me out from under this.” Ian gritted out. “After a quake, any rescue is half an hour out and the building is unstable. Get this off of me!”

Charlie looked around and reached for his bag. The sudden pain his his arm startled him and he cried out.

“I’ve done something to my arm.” He said.

He tried to wiggle his fingers. It was extremely painful and they weren’t moving like they should.

“We’ll look at it when we get out.” Ian growled. “Now pull this shit off of me.”

Charlie looked at the debris trapping Ian. There were pieces of ceiling scattered across his lower body, covering what appeared to be a larger chunk. One handed, Charlie pulled away the smaller pieces to expose the main problem, a chunk of the concrete which formed the floor between buildings. It was about a meter long, by maybe two thirds that wide, and still had a few pieces of iron rebar sticking out of it. He didn’t think that it was meant to break like that, but evidently it had.

“It’s too big.” He said. His voice sounded hoarse to him. “I’ve only got one arm.”

“Hook something around it, belt, bag strap, and haul with your shoulders.” Ian said.

Charlie looked around. Ian’s rifle bag had a strap, webbing, adjustable that clipped and unclipped. He removed it from the bag, with some difficulty and holding the end in his teeth managed to clip it into a loop. He looked at the block to determine the best place to hitch the loop and lever it off of Ian and noticed the red trickle from underneath.

He swallowed hard, picked what seemed to be the most functional spot to attach the loop, and hooking the loop over his shoulder, hauled.

Ian screamed.

The block of concrete slammed down to the floor, Charlie having to jump to dodge it as it fell forwards.

Charlie turned back to Ian. Ian was panting, his breath huffing shallowly as he tried to breathe through the pain.

“Okay, get me up.” Ian ground out.

There was a low rumble and suddenly the floor was shuddering. Charlie found himself crying out as more debris began to fall. He looped his bad arm through the straps of his and Ian’s bags, grabbed Ian’s coat and hauled, harder than he had ever thought he could, dragging Ian towards the most solid of the tables, a real wood desk with heavy legs and a couple of shallow drawers, and over two meters long.

 

He turned and crouched, crawling under the desk and hauling Ian behind him. More of the ceiling fell down, pieces bouncing off of the desk above them. As he pulled Ian in behind him the floor began to tilt and he grabbed at Ian and wrapped his damaged arm round one of the chair legs. The two bags caught on the table leg, then slid round it, back towards Charlie as the floor dropped downwards and sidewards shockingly fast.

 

Charlie, Ian, desk, bags, furniture, debris was suddenly slipping and falling, the light being cut off as the ceiling above him collapsed. Charlie screamed holding onto Ian for dear life. He was vaguely aware of being hit by things falling past him, but something hit his head hard and after a moment of shocking pain, everything went black.


	2. Trapped together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHARLIE AND IAN TRAPPED BUILDING MISSION HEIGHTS ROAD CALL COLBY  
> Don thrust the scribbled note at David, whose eyes widened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI to anyone who read Chapter 1 yesterday, I've actually swapped Megan out for Nikki Betancourt as the timeline didn't work otherwise, however it makes no functional difference to this story!

Don waited for a few moments, staring across the aisle to where David had scrambled under his own desk. When it seemed that the ground had stopped moving, they both crawled out for the second time, though there had not been much of a gap between.

“Is everyone okay?” Don called across the office. 

Everyone seemed largely alright. There were a few bruises, a sprained ankle and a single minor gash from a falling picture frame to the head. He walked around the desks checking on everyone individually. Most people were already picking up the paperwork and items that had been shaken to the floor and one of the junior agents was walking back in with a broom retrieved from the janitor’s cupboard to sweep up the shards of broken coffee mug which dotted various walkways. 

Don’s cellphone rang as he was picking up his desk phone to call in the all clear for his floor. Caller ID indicated that unsurprisingly it was Charlie. That had only been a one in three chance. 

“Hi Charlie,” he said hurriedly, “I’m fine, we’re all okay here. Are you okay?” He leaned down and picked a case file up from under his chair which had miraculously held together. “Look I can’t talk long, I’ve got to call in to Human Resources.”

“Don…” Charlie’s voice trailed off and Don finally started to listen properly. 

“What is it? Charlie?”

“The earthquake...the building…”

Don felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. 

“What happened?” He demanded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trapped with Ian.”

Don’s heart was racing, he could feel it thumping in his chest. He waved his arm frantically, catching David’s attention. David gave him a worried look from the other side of the office where he was checking over the head injury. Don waved him over.

“Where are you?” Don asked Charlie as he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and started to write.

There was no answer but a groan. 

“Hey Charlie, buddy.”

“Donny?”

“Where are you? What building?”

“Mission...uh, Mission Heights Road. For the shooter.”

“Yeah, the original Morris case, right?”

“We found the site Don.” Charlie offered it up like a gift. “Fourth floor window….”

Don took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as David walked up to him. 

“That’s great, look Charlie hold a second.”

_ CHARLIE AND IAN TRAPPED BUILDING MISSION HEIGHTS ROAD CALL COLBY _

Don thrust the scribbled note at David, whose eyes widened. 

“Are you injured?” Don asked Charlie. “Where is Ian?”

“He’s next to me.” Charlie said. There was a hitch in his voice. “He’s unconscious.”

_ IAN UNCONSCIOUS _ Don scribbled on the next piece of paper.

“And you?”

There was a faint scraping noise in the background. “I think I have a broken wrist.” There was a pause. “And I hit my head a bit.”

_ CHARLIE POSS HEAD INJURY POSS BROKE WRIST _

David nodded agreement at the note, already dialling on his mobile phone.

“Okay, thanks for telling me.” Don wondered if Charlie was with it enough to notice how trite Don was sounding. “Are you bleeding?”

“No, it just hurts, but Ian was.”   
_ IAN BLEEDING! _

David rang off his first call quickly and dialled again.

“Where was he bleeding from?”

“His foot. Part of the ceiling squashed it in the first quake.” Charlie said.

“How bad?” 

“Really bad. I had to move stuff off it. Then everything shook again and I got us under the big desk.”

Don nodded, then realised Charlie couldn’t see him. “That’s good. So he’s not bleeding anymore?”

“No, I put a tourniquet on his leg, but I think he got hit on the head too.”

_ IAN CRUSH FOOT + HEAD INJURY      TOURNIQUET FOOT _

David was talking rapidly on the phone to someone and took the note.

“He’s got a pulse though.” Charlie said. “I keep checking it.” It sounded like he was trying to be reassuring to Don. Don wasn’t the one trapped in a building!

“Good.” Don replied. “That’s good. So, tell me where you were when the earthquake hit.”

“We were on the fourth floor,” Charlie said. 

There was a long pause then a noise like a rattle of gravel and Don’s heart almost stopped again.

“What was that?” He demanded.

“I need the bags.” Charlie said. 

Don frowned. “What bags?”

“My backpack and Ian’s rifle case. I want some water and I can’t remember where the bottle is.” There was a rustling and a pause as Charlie apparently had a drink. When he spoke again his voice was a little stronger. “We found the location the shooter fired from. There were desks by the window making a platform and a burn from a muzzle flash on the window ledge.”

Don huffed out a hiss of air. “Charlie, I don’t care about the case!”

“No! It’s relevant!” Charlie said in annoyance. “We took some photos and then the ground began to shake. Part of the ceiling fell in and landed on Ian before we could move. When it stopped I had to get it off Ian.” There was a long pause. “His foot was really squashed. Even with his boot on, Don.”

“So what happened next?” Don asked him, trying to retain some semblance of calm in his voice.

David pushed a note into his field of vision.  _ COLBY + NIKKI ON ROUTE EMERGENCY RESPONSE ALERTED _ Don took the note and scribbled beneath it  _ FOURTH FLOOR SIDE FACING CRIME SCENE NEAR WINDOW UNDER DESKS. _

“Then everything shook again,” Charlie was saying, “and I just grabbed Ian and pulled. I was on the ground with him and I pulled him under the desk. I didn’t realise I was that strong Donny.”

“You never know what you can do till you have to.” Don agreed. 

“It’s a really good desk.” Charlie told him. “I think it was the boss’s desk. It’s big and heavy wood and I got us under it while everything was shaking and then the floor dropped and everything moved.”

For the second time, the Don’s stomach turned over. “What happened?”

“I think the building collapsed.”

Don fought down incipient panic and waved David back over frantically.

_ BUILDING COLLAPSED! _

“So where are you now?”

“Still under the desk, but everything’s at an angle and there’s another desk up against the end of it. It’s helping hold everything up.”

“How big is your space there?”

_ PHONE UR DAD?  _ David asked. Don shook his head frantically. David dialled another call.

“It’s about one point two seven meters wide at the widest point, but about two point nine meters long and one point two meters high.”

Don scribbled this down. It probably wasn’t important, but he wasn’t taking chances.

“How’s the air in there?”

“It’s good.” Charlie replied. “I was a bit worried about how many cubic meters of air we had, but I realised I can see a tiny bit of light so we have fresh air."

Something in Don relaxed.

_ AIR FLOW GOOD TO CHARLIE _ he scribbled.

“I’ve got some water as well.” Charlie added. “I had my walking water bottle with me, it’s been really hot out.”

Don could picture it, blue plastic with a ring at the top with a short lanyard.

“And Colby gave me a bottle of Gatorade earlier, and Ian’s got a canteen in his bag too.”

Ian would have, thought Don, his rifle bag contained his sniper supplies. Don wouldn’t be surprised if he had a number of energy bars and a disposal urinal thing in there as well.

“Okay,” he asked Charlie, “have you got Ian’s cellphone there?”

There was a shuffling. “He’s got two.”

“Yeah, he would have, business and personal.” Don agreed. “Turn them off.”

“What?”

“Turn them off and save the batteries.”

“Oh, yeah.” There was a pause. “Done. But I can’t use them anyway Don, I don’t know his passcode.”

“Doesn’t matter, if your phone runs out of charge we can still phone you.” Don said. “Okay I’m going to ring off.”

“What? No!” Charlie sounded frantic.

Don felt his fingers clenching around the phone. “I have to go call this in officially.” He said as calmly as he could. “I don’t want to go, but need to make sure you are rescued as a priority.”

“Okay.” Charlie’s voice was quiet. 

“And I don’t want to use up all the battery on your phone.” Don added, his voice shaking a bit. “ Either David or I will phone you back in twenty minutes, okay? Sooner if we have news.”

“Okay.” Charlie agreed.

“Good.”

David held up another note COLBY AND NIKKI ONSITE

“Okay, Colby and Nikki are there outside where you are.”

There was a pause.

“Don’t tell Dad yet,” Charlie said, “but if…”

Don cut in. “There’s no if! We’re going to get you out of there.” He said firmly. “You can tell Dad all about it yourself, later on.”

“Okay.” Charlie huffed out a breath. “I love you Donny.”

Don smiled weakly at David. “I love you too Chuck.” David nodded his approval and clapped Don gently on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in a bit okay?”

“See you later.” Charlie replied, and ended the call.

Don had never been more aware of how brave his brother was.


	3. Way out

Don spoke to his boss, to Human Resources, made some arrangements for his team and caseload and let David drive him out to the scene. He spoke to Charlie three times on the way there, and let David speak to him once. By the time they arrived at the scene it was crawling with emergency personnel. 

In the grand scheme of things, it hadn’t been a major quake. Serious enough, but not a major incident. Most of the wider LA area had come out pretty unscathed. It was just Charlie and Edgerton’s bad luck to be in a condemned and unstable building when the earthquake struck. Don wondered if one of the reasons these three buildings were condemned was that they weren’t up to code in terms of earthquake resilience.  Not that that was much of an issue now, as two of the three had pretty much collapsed, and it was likely that all three would be fully demolished as a priority. 

He had called Colby while in the car, to discover that they had spoken to a homeless woman who they had located praying in the street. They had found her on her knees, offering up prayers of thanksgiving to Jesus and crying her eyes out. Despite the fact that she was drunk she had very coherently expressed her belief that God had sent the FBI to save them all from the earthquake. The “tall dark guy” had ordered them all out of the building without arresting them shortly before the quake had struck. The simple presence of the FBI had cleared the other two buildings as well and Gail, as she had introduced herself eventually, was pretty certain there was no-one inside, which was good news to the emergency personnel. 

No-one else, Nikki had told her, except the two FBI personnel. Gail had apparently been extremely distressed that her FBI agent saviours were trapped in the building but by the time Don and David arrived Gail had evaporated, in the way of homeless people to make themselves scarce in the presence of the authorities. 

Don phoned Charlie again.  “Hey Chuck.”

“Don’ call me Chuck.” Charlie grumbled.

“I’m outside.” Don said. “How are you, how’s Ian.”

“I’m okay.” Charlie said. “Ian’s still unconscious. I’m pretty worried about him.”

“There’s a whole bunch of emergency personnel out here now.” Don reassured him. “They’re working on how to get you out.”

“Okay.” Charlie said. He sounded tired.

“So, Colby and Nikki were talking to a woman who thinks you and Ian saved her life and all the other homeless people who were in there by clearing the building.”

“Least something good came out of this.” Charlie said. “I can hear concrete moving.”

“That’ll be the rescue teams, they’re examining the site.”

“Okay.” Charlie said again. “Assessing stability.”

“Yeah.” Don agreed. 

“Did you call Dad or Amita?”

“Not yet.” Don said. “You said not to phone Dad and it’s the middle of the night in India yeah?”

“Twelve and a half hours ahead.” Charlie said. “She was in bed when the quake hit. I spoke to her this morning.”

“Good.” Don said. “I gotta check in with the scene lead.”

“Okay.” Charlie seemed to be moving about. “I’m gonna eat Ian’s candy.”

“Good idea Chuck. I’ll ring you back soon.” 

“Don’ call me Chuck!” Charlie repeated.

“Hang in there.”

“I will.”

Don rang off and began to walk over to the command post that had been set up. His cell phone rang and he could see with some horror that it was his dad. He declined the call. Fifteen seconds later the phone rang again. He let it ring.

The man in charge of the scene was a senior fire officer, probably pushing retirement age, stocky and grey haired. He saw Don walking over and moved away from the knot of personnel to speak to him.

“I’m Don Eppes.” He introduced himself and flashed his badge at the man in charge. “This is Agent Sinclair”

“David.” Sinclair introduced himself.

“Challas, just call me Challas like everyone else.” The man replied, slightly unnecessarily as it was stitched on his shirt. “So, it’s your men in there.”

Don nodded. “Agent Ian Edgerton, and FBI Consultant Professor Charlie Eppes.”

Challas gave him a look that spoke volumes.

“My brother,” Don clarified. “They were working a cold case probably connected to a current murder and child abduction. They ID-ed a probable crime scene in the front of the building here.”

“Fourth floor front” Challas showed Don a printed photo of the front elevation of the building, rather old, but he guessed correct. “Agent Betancourt said you’ve been speaking to your brother on his cellphone and he’s got good air and some space to move?”

Don nodded and Challas gave him a pleased smile. 

“That’s good news, means they’re close to the top of the heap if there’s a good phone signal. I need to speak to him now.”

Don’s phone rang again.

“Is that him?”

Don looked down. “No, it’s my Dad.”

“I’ve got Charlie’s number.” David offered.

“Okay,” Challas agreed, “you call Charlie for me,” he turned to Don, “and you can phone your damn father. He’s probably tearing his hair out.”

“And Amita,” David added, “you gotta phone Amita.”

Don found himself herded off to sit on the running board of a fire truck so he could make his calls. He phoned his dad. The phone only rang twice before it was picked up.

“Donny?”

“Dad.”

“I’ve been trying to call you and Charlie, but I couldn’t get through.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“What about Charlie?” Alan waited a moment. “Don, what about Charlie? Where’s Charlie?”

“He’s okay.”

“Where is he?” Alan demanded.

“He’s trapped in a collapsed building with Ian Edgerton. They’re working out the best way to get them out now.”

There was a thump and a huff as if his dad had sat down heavily in a chair. 

“This is obviously some new meaning of fine that I wasn’t aware of!” His Dad bit out the words. “I need to...I gotta...”

Don cut in. “You need to stay where you are. I’m on scene and I’m surplus to requirements already.”

He could hear his Dad breathing hard. “Okay,” Alan said, pausing deliberately, “okay, what about Amita.”

“She doesn’t know yet. It’s the middle of the night in India.”

“Don!” His dad protested, “he’s her husband. You gotta phone her, she’ll need to come home.”

“I’m phoning her next Dad.” Don defended himself. “I phoned you first as you were closer. I gotta make sure someone’s phoned Edgerton’s next of kin too.”

“And Larry.” Alan insisted.

“Dad, I can’t phone Larry.”

“Well I’ll phone Larry.”

“You do that.” Don was already feeling exhausted by this phone call. “Better phone Millie as well, someone’s going to need to cover Charlie’s course schedule for a few days.”

“Just a few days?”

“I don’t know Dad, I guess so.” Don rubbed the back of his neck. “Charlie says he’s mostly fine. He says he thinks he’s broken his wrist and has some scrapes and bruises. He’s trapped in a void with Ian who is unconscious.”

“Oh my God.” Alan said.

“The scene commander is talking to Charlie now,” Don said firmly, glancing over to where Challas was talking on David’s cellphone, “Charlie and Ian were on an upper floor and managed to get under a solid wood table. They’re in a safe position now, and the scene commander is confident they’re going to get them out without further harm.”

“Okay Don, okay.” Alan said backing off a little. He paused and his voice softened. “You know that I love you boys.”

“Yeah Dad, course we do. We love you too.

 

An hour after Don’s arrival at the scene and just over two hours after the quake had hit, Challas confirmed that they had definitively located Charlie and Ian. Don breathed a sigh of relief. He had spoken to Amita who would be on the next available flight home. She had seemed understandably very shaken but calm, although Don thought she was probably faking for his benefit. Not knowing when she would be on a flight and able to speak to anyone, he sent her a text and an email with the good news, guessing she’d either get it before the flight, in the air if there was in flight internet, or at worst on landing. 

Larry had called and agreed that he would collect her from LAX on arrival. He hadn’t asked for any details of the flight and Don guessed he had called in some favors to find out her itinerary and get her expedited on arrival. 

David came over and handed him a paper bag. “Steak sandwich and a large coke,” he informed Don, “you need to eat.”

He handed Don a couple of sachets containing little lemon scented hand wipes and tore open his own to wipe the pervasive concrete dust off his hands and face before eating. Don copied him mechanically. 

“What’s the news?” David asked. 

“They’ve managed to feed a line through to them.” Don said, around a mouthful of sandwich. “It’s got a camera thing, so we can see what’s going on and they’ve piggy backed a cable through so they can continue speaking to Charlie after his phone dies.”

“Great.” David said. 

“Yeah.” Don took a mouthful of coke. “They’ve had a paramedic talking Charlie through checking and treating Ian. He’s the biggest concern and they’re now working out the safest way of getting to them.”

“Lemme guess,” said David, “the professor has been helping with the calculations?”

Don snorted. “Yep.”

They chewed food for a moment, before David spoke again. “How long?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” Don said, putting his drink down. “Challas say the floor above them split apart and came down in two main pieces. It all slumped sideways, which is good 'cause there’s less on top of them, but one piece is kinda balanced on the other. Best evidence they’ve got suggests it’s still pretty unstable and if they move it wrong, the whole lot could slip again.” Don ran a hand through his hair. It came away dusty.

David looked away from him, out over the site. 

“Good news is,” Don continued, “they’ve done thermal imaging surveys and had dogs over the site and they’re pretty certain Ian and Charlie are the only ones in there so they don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

“I’ll take all the good news we can get.” David said.

“Yeah.”

They leaned back on the firetruck and Don finished his sandwich with his remaining clean hand.

 

Over on the other side of the site, a small group were assembling. The sun was now getting lower on the horizon and the slowly lengthening shadows being cast across the site were not helping. Challas walked over to Don and David.

“We’re going in shortly.” He said. “Paramedics are concerned about Edgerton and we can’t leave it any longer. We can’t move what’s over them, so we’re going in from the side, under the sheet of concrete floor directly above them.”

Don swallowed hard. “What are the odds?”

Challas shrugged. “As good as we can make them. We’ve stabilised everything we can and we’ve picked the safest route in, but we can’t leave it any longer.”

“Does Charlie back your play?”

Challas patted Don on the shoulder. “He was the one first started calling time on this. We’ve been arguing it out for about twenty minutes now with us, the structural engineer and your brother. I’ll give him this, he knows his stuff.”

“He consulted on a couple of cases with building damage, a structural failure risk and a illegal waste disposal case. He’s done his research.” Don said. 

“He’s a good man.” Challas said, and walked back to his team.

It took a half hour for the team to work their way through the rubble to Charlie and Ian. Don was given a good vantage point to watch and monitor their progress as far as was possible. He stood there, fists clenched, jumping every time a piece of masonry slipped. 

Finally he saw the rescue team coming out backwards pulling Ian, still unconscious and strapped to a backboard. Don took an involuntary step forward, but forced himself to wait, not to run forward until summoned. Shortly after, grey with dust and helped by two emergency personnel but largely under his own steam, Charlie crawled out. He stood there, swaying and held up by a firefighter, as a paramedic brought a gurney over and coaxed him onto it. Finally, Don was being beckoned over.

“Don!” Charlie croaked out.

“Hey kiddo.”

“You told Dad!” He accused Don. “Dad texted me!”

“And Amita.” Don said. “She’s on her way home.”

“Don!”

“Visiting family is less important than this, Charlie.” 

Charlie looked like he was trying to scowl, it was hard to tell under all of the dust and anything he was going to say was derailed by a harsh cough. 

The paramedic intervened. “We need to take you to the hospital now,” he told Charlie.

“Oh,” said Charlie vaguely. “Where’s Ian?”

“Already on route to the ER.” The paramedic said, strapping Charlie down. “Where you’re going as soon as I can get you in the van.”

Charlie looked at Don. “David went with him.” Don said. “Nikki’s gone to get Dad and Larry and Colby will collect Amita from the airport. We’re all good Chuck.” 

“ 'Kay. Too tired to argue 'bout Chuck...” Charlie said, resting his head back against the pillow as the gurney began to move. “Ian okay. Good.” He said, and promptly passed out.

“Don’t worry,” the paramedic said, “probably just exhaustion. Come on, you can ride with.” 

Don grinned at him in relief and followed Charlie into the back of the ambulance.


End file.
